Duels 7
by Dukki-chan
Summary: the last/next installment of my DraHarry fic! MAKE-UP SEX INCLUDED. :D


DUELS 7.

Draco Malfoy was impatient. At least, he had become so within the last several hours. Why, oh iwhy/i did Potter have to tell him to wait until ilater/i?! It was surely a new form of torture that old Scarhead had devised during their fight. Frustrated and anxious, the blonde sighed and rolled his shoulders. He had only to get through Transfiguration, Draco told himself, and then he would, by right, be able to grab Potter by his ihair/i if he had to and idrag/i him to the Room of Requirement. Screw eating dinner. Potter didn't need nutrition.

Professor McGonagall seemed to notice Draco's apparent change in mood as he became giddy with the thoughts of all the things he'd do to Harry later on. One look at the Slytherin's cocky smirk and she knew that he was plotting something, or rather, focusing on something iother/i than Transfiguration, which was equally inexcusable. Her suspicions were only confirmed as Draco, with a lazy tap of his wand, caused a bullfrog to turn into inot/i a paperweight (as was the assignment), but into an angry, zooming firecracker.

All at once the cracker-frog soared off of Draco's desk, a stream of brilliant blue sparks exploding from its wide mouth. Several people screamed in surprise and managed to knock over a desk or two. Suddenly dozens of croaking bullfrogs with half-weighted bodies were making a break for freedom. Some people tried to jump on their frogs and put them back in their tank. Unfortunately, they mistook the slipperiness of the bullfrogs and only succeeded in sending more desks crashing to the floor.

McGonagall's once graveyard silent classroom had turned into a veritable circus.

"ENOUGH!" McGonagall roared over all the shouts, explosions, and crashes. Instantly, the Slytherins grew silent. "Mr. Malfoy," she said in an acidic tone, "I believe it was your frog that began the mess. You were obviously not taking into account the nature of your actions and were therefore careless. You will stay after as long as it takes to clean my classroom of this mess. No magic. The rest of you may go."

Draco's mouth fell open in an expression of his fury for the seemingly unjust punishment. "But Professor!" he whined. "I didn't make the mess!" He cast an accusing glare around at his peers, as if it were their fault that he was daydreaming and blew up a bullfrog. The rest of the class, prompted by Draco's stare, hurried out of the room. Not even Crabbe and Goyle remained behind.

McGonagall pursed her lips and folded her arms. "You did indeed, Mr. Malfoy. Had you not been concerning yourself with things other than Transfiguration, you would be able to accompany your friends to dinner." The wizened witch gathered up her things and brushed past Draco, adding, "There is a mop and bucket in the closet."

Cursing loudly, Draco kicked a nearby textbook across the room. The heavy tome slammed into a shelf of odd objects and knocked it over. The shelf came crashing to the hard floor, its many burdens falling from their perch and breaking open.

"Damn it!" Draco seethed. There was no iway/i he'd managed to make it on time to the Room of Requirement now. It wasn't exactly as if he could run to the Great Hall and tell Harry about it, either. If McGonagall came back to find him gone, his punishment would be a lot worse than just a few hours of cleaning.

"I could always bribe a House Elf…" Draco said bitterly to himself as he set in on righting the room.

iDamn the bullfrogs./i

~*~

"You seem awfully cheery, Harry," commented Hermione Granger at dinner that evening. "Is there something going on?"

Ron paused in his eating of a drumstick to observe Harry's reaction.

Harry instantly tried to force his grin back into a normal expression. He was unsuccessful. Ever since that morning, and his promiscuous conversation with Draco, Harry could not help but look foreword to their meeting that night. "No, nothing going on," he lied automatically.

Hermione looked at Harry in a way that rivaled Dumbledore's all-knowing gaze. She seemed to know with that one look that Harry planned to meet Draco for an indulgence in his guilty pleasures that night. He only hoped that she wouldn't make a big deal about it. Hadn't she and Ron both said they supported him?

"I'm meeting Draco, ok?" Harry finally admitted. He looked determinedly down at his steak and potato pie, waiting for the reaction. He glanced nervously at Ron, whom he noticed, was also examining his meal with more interest than was necessary.

"I thought so," Hermione said simply. "Well have fun."

Harry thought that if she told him to use protection, he'd die right then and there.

- - -

Throughout his dinner, Harry kept an eye on the Slytherin table. He kept waiting to see that pale, smirking face peering at him across the Hall, kept hoping that Draco was looking at him, too.

Sadly, Draco was no where to be seen. It wasn't until Harry noticed Crabbe and Goyle sitting in their usual spots--today absent of Draco sitting between them--that Harry began to get worried. iWhere the Hell is he?/i he thought anxiously. Harry could not imagine Draco passing up the chance to shoot him suggestive, teasing glances, so why wasn't that damn Slytherin here?!

iHe's probably in the Room already…he's always been impatient…/i

No, Harry disagreed with himself; it was he that was the impatient one. He hadn't had a thought all that day that wasn't about Draco's forceful kiss out by the Black Lake. Those warm lips that pressed so eagerly down upon his own had erased all the spite he had held for their owner. Harry had been so ready to try it again with Draco; to hope that, maybe, things could work between them.

Yes, Harry decided, he was the impatient one.

With a slight inward sigh, Harry stood up from the table, bid Hermione and Ron goodbye, and made his way to the Room of Requirement. He only hoped that Draco would make an appearance.

~*~

By the time that Draco had returned all the bullfrogs to their tank, righted the desks and returned the books to their shelves, he found it to be later than he expected. One glance out of McGonagall's window told him that it had to be almost 11:00 p.m. Surely Harry would have given up and gone to bed by then. Draco tried not to get his hopes up that the Gryffindor would still be there.

iDamn it…/i the blonde growled in his head. /iWhat a ridiculous thing to make me do: clean the classroom. This is servant stuff!/i Angrily he threw the mop and bucket into McGonagall's storage closet and swept from the room, hurrying not to the dungeons, but to the Room of Requirement. Maybe if he was lucky, that relentless Scarhead would still be waiting for him there. He would be pissed, yes, but at least he would be there.

~*~

Harry was not pleased. Rather, he was ifurious/i. ibDraco had stood him up!/b/i After all of that, Draco was still playing games.

He should have expected it, Harry supposed, Draco was a Slytherin, iand/i a Malfoy, no less. Of icourse/i it was never going to be easy. Draco loved to toy with people's emotions. That's what was going to make him a great Death Eater one day; Draco didn't care who he hurt as long as it made he himself feel good.

Dejected and disappointed, Harry made the walk of shame back to the Gryffindor Common Room. There he hoped to just collapse onto one of the squashy red armchairs and kick himself for ever trying to trust Draco Malfoy.

Just as Harry was starting to become comfortable with the fact that he wasn't getting any ass that night, he saw something that made that content vanish as if by magic:

Draco Malfoy was leaning up against the portrait of the Fat Lady with his shirt half-buttoned and his face an annoyed mask.

"You left," the Slytherin said flatly.

"You didn't show," replied the Gryffindor.

That was all that needed to be said.

Fluidly, as if performing a dance, the two boys closed the distance between them with a lusty, forceful kiss. Hands pushed aside cloaks, and tongues invaded mouths. They were immediately lost in the pleasurable heat of that long-awaited kiss. Outside of that intimate connection, they vaguely heard shots of "Get a room!" and "You are shaming your Houses!" from the surrounding portraits. This only caused the two boys to laugh amidst the kiss.

"Should we move somewhere more private, then?" Harry managed to ask. His breathing was heavy and irregular.

Draco nodded earnestly. "Yes."

The blonde's reply was followed by several gasps of horror, sighs of relief, and shouts to "Use protection!" from their painted audience.

The two boys smirked and chuckled as they tripped into the nearest empty classroom.

- - -

"Shit, Potter, you imust/'ve wanted this pretty bad…You're already getting hard…" The thin-faced Slytherin looked down at Harry with his usual smirk on his face. The two were lying on top of an empty teacher's desk with the majority of their clothes lying around them on the floor. Draco was lying on top of Harry, teasing the boy's skin with his tongue and teeth.

Harry rolled his eyes at the boy on top of him. "Oh shove it, Malfoy. You're hard too." As if to prove this, Harry moved his leg so that his knee ground up against Draco's stiffening length. This caused Draco to give a soft groan and sneer down at Harry.

"Fine…so I'm hard too. Sue me," he said breathily. "No are you gonna let me fuck you or what?"

Harry shook his head, rolling suddenly so that he was now the dominate one. "No way, blondie. After all the hell you put me through, no one's going to be doing the fucking here but me." The spectacled boy smirked as he forced Draco's legs apart and jammed himself without warning into the Slytherin. Draco gave a pained gasp, his pale fingers digging into Harry's back.

"You asshole…tha-that hurts…" Draco said heavily.

Harry's face contorted slightly as he nodded. "I know…just bear with me…"

Nails dug into expanses of skin, sweat fell and voices cried out, but before long at all, the two had fallen back into their old rhythm. It was like no fight had ever occurred, and they were back at their first night in the fated Room of Requirement. It seemed so long ago to the two of them that they had first kissed, first touched, and first, well, fucked.

"Nh!" Draco groaned around his bottom lip, which he was biting into with surprising force. "H-Hit that spot again…"

Harry smirked and aimed to roughly jab Draco's prostate again, which cause the Slytherin to arch his back closer against Harry's chest. "Did I hit it?" Harry said sarcastically.

Draco only grunted slightly and brought his hips up to meet Harry's thrusts. "Stop now and I'll kill you," he managed to say.

Harry kissed his way up from the Slytherin's porcelain neck to his velvet lips. "Wouldn't dream of it."

~*~

Almost two hours later, the two managed--with some difficulty--to find their own clothes and re-dress. The difficulty arose not from the darkness of the classroom or their exhausted limbs, but from the fact that neither boy could stand to see the other clothed for very long. But after several buttons had to be magicked back on to their shirts and pants, the two exited the classroom.

Draco kissed Harry goodnight outside of the Gryffindor Common Room, almost unwilling to let go so that they could both get some much needed sleep.

"It's not like I won't see you tomorrow for Potions, dummy," Harry said in a whisper, his lips teasingly close to Draco's.

Draco tried to close the gap between them yet again, but was stopped. "You're such a bloody tease, Potter."

"It turns you on and you know it, Malfoy. Now go get some sleep. But if Filch catches you on your way back, I'm going to deny ever seeing you, so be careful." With one last brief kiss, Harry disappeared behind the portrait of the Fat Lady, leaving Draco in the corridor with only the peeping portraits for company.

A smirk lit the Slytherin's face as he made his way back. "Here we go again, Potter…"


End file.
